


Coda to "Slice Girls"

by 8sword



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 7x13, Angst, Episode: s07e13 The Slice Girls, Gen, Samulet, Slice Girls, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:17:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8sword/pseuds/8sword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The body’s still there when they get back from the Amazons’ cleared-out building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coda to "Slice Girls"

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I get “Slice Girls” feels. They’re not pleasant. Watch out for language and some gore.

The body’s still there when they get back from the Amazons’ cleared-out building. A lump on the bed. Sam had thrown one of the comforters over it before they left, hadn’t covered the roll-away suitcase she’d brought with her. It’s still standing there with the handle half-up, waiting for her to grab it.

“We gotta burn it,” Sam says. He’s already throwing stuff into their duffels, pulling the rags out to wipe their prints from the counter, the sink. “Dean. Come on.”

“Yeah, I—” Dean wipes a hand down his face. “Yeah.” Grabs the rags from Sam, starts on the microwave, the refrigerator handle. Doesn’t think about the burrito still inside.

Sam stops. Looks at him. “Dean.” Gently. “You know what? I got this. Why don’t you sit down?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. Picks up the body in the blanket, shoulders Sam out of the way. Puts it in the backseat of the car and gets in himself, doesn’t wait for Sam before pulling out of the lot.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning in the suburbs, and maybe he wants to be caught for this, maybe he’d like for someone to look at the bundle he’s holding and the look on his face and think murderer and call the cops on him because things’ve been bad, things have been fucking bad, but this.

Please don’t let him hurt me.

There’s a pasture just outside the town limits that they passed coming in. There’s a collapsible shovel in the Impala’s trunk that they use for salt-and-burns. There’s a dead kid in his backseat who tried to kill him and asked him to save her.

He digs the shovel into the wet ground beside the pasture’s fence, where the dirt is always softer. He digs, and he sweats, and his mind runs through everything he’s got in the car, of anything remotely like a coffin.

But there’s nothing. He hauls himself out of the hole and carries the body to its edge and lowers himself into it again, pulls the blanket and body with him. Feels a sickness like puking, a dizziness like passing out, and he crouches and it’s too soon for her to have started rotting yet, he knows ‘cuz Sammy, but he swears he smells it, the slick taste like fingers stuck down his throat. It doesn’t disappear when the body’s lit, fire burning orange with salt, the slick oil of gasoline on his fingers and in his nose.

You know, for a second I thought I’d left a pot roast burning in the oven. But…it was my meat.

He had to pull back the blanket to put the salt and gas on her, and now he watches her open eyes blacken and her skin bubble and her hair burn, and there’s no way not to remember Mom, her long bright hair and burning face. No way not to wonder, with trembling hands and gut, as he shovels the dirt back onto the stuttering flames, what she would have thought of this. Of them. Of him.

When he takes the gasoline and the shovel back to the car, there’s something gleaming in the backseat. A necklace, the one he’d seen Lydia wear, and give to Emma.

He takes it back to the filled-in grave. Crouches to press it into the dug-up soil. Then he goes back to the car where the amulet he hasn’t worn since that motel so long ago is shoved in the glovebox under Dad’s journal and the map to the Grand Canyon, and he presses it onto Emma’s grave, too.


End file.
